


Rise

by JoAsakura



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-15
Updated: 2008-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 04:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last afternoon in Russian America. 1867.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise

Sitka, October 17, 1867

(I'm going to miss this place) Ivan thought to himself as he listened to the gulls overhead. The water lapped at the island's harbour and the sun made him warm and sleepy as he sprawled out on the pier. But they needed the money, and since the area had been overhunted, the Tsar didn't want to spend the money on the place anymore.

By tomorrow, it wouldn't be Novoarkhangelsk of Russian America. It would be Sitka, Alaska Territory. He was mildly relieved that Alfred was taking it. Even though Ivan had talked to Arthur about it, and even thought he'd been rather canny in suggesting what a nice gift it would be for Matthew, England had snubbed him straight off.

"So that's where you were hiding." America's clear voice didn't startle him. Ivan had heard the limping step on the wood a few moments earlier. He glanced up at the younger Nation, and patted the dock beside him.

"Sit. It's warm here." He said, watching Alfred sit down slowly. He was still recovering from his civil war, that much was clear. Both of them had been undergoing internal strife and it took it's toll - but civil wars were the worst.

"If you say so." Alfred snorted, squinting up at the sky, no bluer than his eyes. "But it is nice here- even if it probably should've been Matt's."

"Blame your big brother for that one." Ivan muttered, enjoying the dark look that passed over Alfred's face. "I'm sorry. He's not, anymore is he?"

"Cut it out." Alfred growled back.

Ivan watched that expression, like stormclouds rolling in, and reached out to brush one big hand across America's stomach. The younger Nation hissed but didn't push his hand away. "Russia..." he started.

Ivan rolled on his side and pressed on that spot again. It had barely scabbed over, the wound. "Lie back." He said quietly, feeling the warmth that blossomed under his fingers. "You're hardly healed, aren't you?"

"You shouldn't go poking into other people's wounds." Alfred said and they both knew what he meant.

"I can't help wanting to see your face like that." Russia said agreeably, bending over America to kiss him while the sun was warm on his back. There was nothing hesitant in the young Nation's response and inwardly, Ivan grinned as he ran his hand lightly down Alfred's stomach. England might have liked to delude himself that America had been his innocent little brother before the Revolution, but it had been Europe's biggest open secret that the growing nation had, willingly or not, warmed both France and Spain's beds on more than one occasion.

It showed in the way Alfred's whip-thin body twisted under him, and how the next flush of damp warmth that met Ivan's fingers had nothing to do with the giant seeping gash across the smaller man's midsection.

(Growing pains) Russia reminded himself. Europe and Asia might regard them both as oafish bumpkins, but both of them would be bigger and more powerful than anyone but each other someday. They would do what even Old Man Rome had failed to do, and as the younger Nation came in his hand again, Ivan dreamed of how they two would change the world.


End file.
